The Adventures of Raymbecca

Hola muchachos! Lets try to figure out what I did last night, I like going through the carnage backwards, like a treasure hunt and almost as scary as Jumanji.

How to dress for a fashion show if you’re nervous about fashion shows (everyone is) and part of the show is the fashion on the floor. Waiting for the show is people watching city. I counter-balance my anxiety by dressing classic and understated, casual, comfortable and I kinda always have to go in sync with Raymbecca who is stubborn as a mule with her shit (always excruciatingly so it makes me go 1. bananas 2. hair loss 3. rage).

Anyway when you go out dressed like the underdog people get wicked intrigued by you quick so when you do something or say something classified as “neat” they are BLOWN AWAY BY YOU like the monkey is now TALKING.

I am so not falling for that one Raymbecca. Hmm, sniff. JUST JOSHING YOU.

Not to brag hag but all the gays loved us, me first. My ego was at an all time high. And you know what we did to make friends? Nothing. I mean, be ourselves (who does that??) This is not our first rodeo (what?) but I’ll give it to my famous hairstylist to grease the wheels for me before arrival by talking about me to everyone first thanks bro. The rest we did ourselves.

I really love this rooftop, it wasn’t as slammed as a couple fashion show nights ago but it was busy enough, with room to enjoy yourself, dig? There is always one requisite cluster of annoying “too good for everyone fashionistas”, Cube never disappoints. Too bad they were trashy and fug. They are rude and they storm you, I wouldn’t move out of the way of one because it was the third time they clothes-lined our crew, such bratty poorly brought up manner-less women beasts trying to gain alpha club status like there is nowhere else to go up here, you are here, stop pacing. No one is better than anybody else up there as far as I’m concerned but it’s fun to watch some try to be.

One of our twenty new gay best friends hahaha.

I don’t think you want to know what I asked about that ring. His friend exploded in to laughter and said, “yes basically!” Lolz. Raymbecca had a blast last night my brain marbles are still blasted out of my head for it.

Danier jackets. Some super amazing ones. I’d love a new jacket for fall and keep my little beater one for when I go to Salvador Darling. Where everyone loses jackets.

Cute. Next time I am going to eat a bag of popcorn and lay on a couch because “I’m media”.

It’s like The Ring.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAh.

Fancy nails. Upped my game and worth just from slicking it on. I want to wear my monokini today lol. I’ll save it for the island. Who saves things? Burn those fancy candles now! Oprah says. I apply that to everything.

Ooh ma nails. Can you have a crush on yourself?

Look it’s the Three Muskecheers. I wonder where le f the Killigrew boys were?

One day Raymbecca will dance on the catwalk after the show and it will be hilarious.

It was nice being told all night long how beautiful I was “like model”. Like, how tanked are you guys? They turned my blahh-zay attitude right around. My understated slob sailor outfit was a success.

I almost wore my ghettofab wedges but I didn’t think that would be safe to bike in who am I the Spice Girls now? (yes) but anyway you know these mary jane wedges have been kickin’ it with me for years now (can you remember how many?) they’re uber comfortable to deal with, albeit borderline geriatric. How many shits I give can also be applied to my dance moves.

Smooth.

I styled the rest of Bech‘s outfit, just popped that necklace on and voila. Sold.

Nice pipes!

Oh summer nights. Quit smoking it’s grosstastic! Looks good in my pictures though.

That is the world’s most intense cigarette drag.

It’s nice and toasty up there it’s like the roof was ripped off to make way for the gotham view. It really puts me in a good mood.

Lets have a nice sit. Can you tell I put gold glimmer everywhere on my eyes?

Too bad my eyes are different colours. I pulled a Bowie. This is essentially just another It’s Pat! outfit.

Then we rode bikes home and massacred a chicken carcass with tipsy jerk sauce all over it and drank my VIP bottle of Absolut Elyx. And that my friends is what we call Tuesday night. Til next time.